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lirik lagu arthur’s bar / a voice in the stati – the legendary pink dots

i remember arthur’s bar…
cold comfort corner
nights began at 6
i’d sip slow whiskeys
wait for other passing ships
my gaze fixed on an empty stool
and sure enough the golden rule
would be observed and i would crawl a touch too close to you
you’d listen well
then take your turn
you’d spin your story in return
done scoring points
slammed down our glasses
we stumbled out together
now arthur’s bar is history
cos good king arthur died
been sick for years behind that smile
and still he would provide
us casualties comparing scars…
he rarely said a word
and we sat therе denying him the attention hе deserved

in the past, i was always fine with my own company
but
look at me now
motionless
masked on a high bed
with monotonous machines bleating like a cornered mouse
arms and legs strapped with leather
cables everywhere
goddammit
under the collar, i’m noodle soup
and above
well considering the situation
i’d say i’m looking good
but i won’t lift that mask
of course
there’s also the me who stares at me, from above
that’s the free one
the controlled one
imagine a moth with common sense that ignores the lampshade that lights the room in a purposeful way
i’m wondering if it’s merely the morphine, or if this is truly an out*of*body experience
and indeed i’m also a strand in the spaghetti
as a cord stretched from my left heel to my far*off navel
i’ve heard that if that line is severed, the wandering spirit is swept into oblivion while the ground floor dies

sounds like a hack theory from one of those books you’d find in those excruciating shops that reek of patchouli and sound like bored angels on a rainy sunday

i never met anyone who tried this

so, i’ll stay here

uh*oh here come the cavalry
it’s doctor halitosis and the friendly ghost
seemingly more interested in an ipad than a pitiful patient
they’re mumbling to each other

guys, haven’t you noticed that even if the patient if the patient on the bed heard you he couldn’t do anything about it as he’s too weak, too sick
yet
he wasn’t in that state when he arrived here, was he?

i’m going to slide in between your indecently close faces and capture every nuance
listen in on your plans and secrets
and

oh jesus
you’re not talking about the patient at all
it’s locker room chat
football flesh and youtube funnies
the patient is routine
long*term
an unchanging scenario until the money runs out and the switch is flipped
the tubes are part of the milking machine

and me
the floating me
the free one
i also depend upon that milking machine
i’ll sign
i’ll keep signing
a trail of ectoplasm
a shadow across the wall
‘take my money’ i’ll say
the room is admittedly unremarkable
but the view from the window is to die for

- the legendary pink dots

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